Keeper of the Creed, Keeper of my Heart
by Shiriak
Summary: A story of a girl's life as she learns the ways of the Assassin's Creed, and finds herself falling for the strongest of them all. Rated M for blood, gore and future scenes and lemons. Reviews, no matter what they encompass, are welcome.
1. Everyone has a backstory

Disclaimer: I own nothing of Assassin's Creed, and am only using this as a non-profit source of entertainment. Only a few of the characters are of my own design, and they should be obvious.

I was twelve years old when I first saw him. I distinctly remember it was raining that day, the soft sounds of water falling upon thatching, stone and armor. The rain always brought me peace in a strange way; the smells the sounds and how the people so quickly vacated the streets, leaving me alone to wander and explore. Acre was always such a dreary city, but the rain made it feel so much more serene than it actually was. I remember I was…in the alleyway. Well, it was just one of many in the large port-city, but I called it _the_ alleyway; it was _my_ alleyway. I'd lived out the short course of my life in the overbearing care of my mother, who wanted nothing more than for me to be married off to some rich merchant and carry her out of the filth that was our life. I owned nothing, not even the clothes on my own back. It was _my_ alleyway, something that I held claim to and could see as my own. For a twelve year old child, the compact space between rows of houses and cluttered with barrels and refuse was a whole other world; the beams that stretched from one side of the alley to the next cast magical shadows during the days when the grey clouds above parted. I was never happier than during the days I'd disappear into the winding stretch, feeling the hours slip through my fingers like winds across the grass.

It was raining that day as I sat in the alley, throwing rocks against the far wall. My simple, linen dress that I wore was thoroughly soaked, but I paid it little. It clung to my feminine figure tighter than it should, obviously, but there wasn't anyone around to notice anyways. Oh right, perhaps I should have started with more about me. I'm so bad at telling stories, always getting pulled off-track. But I'll try to keep this as quick as possible, for my past is just what brought me to where I am now, and where I am _now_ is the interesting part. We can save the details about me for later, actually, and let's just get through with this part of my life. I remember how loud it was for a rainy-day. Most times, folk would stay inside by the hearth, telling tales or spending time with their families. Or of course, many would still be at work down by the docks, but that was far from my home in the poor district of the city. As I said, it was far too loud. The bells were tolling repeatedly, and I could hear faint shouts and cries in the distance. It seemed too early for the bells to be chiming out the hour, and I remember wondering why they rung then. Perhaps it was a funeral for some rich, pompous noble, but why then the disturbances? The shouting and yelling drew closer, and I became frightened; the alleyway may have been my sanctuary, but even at twelve a girl in Acre knew the signs of approaching danger. Those who didn't…they didn't last very long in the unforgiving city. I was about to head back inside when a sound drew my attention to the far side of the alley. And that's when I first saw him.

At first I thought he was a scholar, or a priest. He wore all white with an emblazoned cross on his chest; the markings of authority and respect. But I quickly noticed the sword at his side, and thought otherwise. He moved like…like he didn't need to touch the ground at all, but did so simply for the sake of appearance. The man wore a hood that was tugged over his eyes, white as the rest of his garb. His hands were gloved, and he wore leather boots…at least I think it was leather. It was hard to tell after all, since he was running hurriedly right for me. He leapt over and past the crates effortlessly, charging through the alleyway while his hands pumped and swung with determination at his side. I stood shocked, frozen in place at the sight. There was a crash from behind him as he ran, and as quickly as he had appeared, so did half a dozen of the city watch. Fully armed with blades drawn, they yelled "Assassin! Stop him! Don't let him get away!" as they gave chase.

The man in white threw a glance over his shoulder as the distance between us closed, mouth set in a thin yet delicate line. By the time he turned forwards again, I was less than a few strides away. His eyes widened only slightly and, just as he should have trampled me beneath him, he bunched his legs and leapt into the air. I locked eyes with him then, as he flew over me. He had green eyes, I remember. I thought he would simply leap over me, and the guards appeared to as well it seemed. But just at the peak of his leap, his hands grabbed onto one of the beams spanning the sides of the alleyway, and fluently lifted himself onto the wood. Without even breaking his momentum, he was running again, this time across the beams between the houses above the ground. He didn't even spare a look back as he ran, each bounding stride carrying him swiftly away from me. I was not so lucky with the guards. After they had passed, I had suffered a sprained arm and one broken toe, among various scrapes and bruises. That armor is a lot heavier than it looks, believe me. I later found out that the bishop of our city had been killed, in broad daylight, by an assassin in white. At age twelve, even I can put together the pieces of _that_ sort of puzzle. That was the day that the rain fell heavy, and the day that I first saw Altair.


	2. Just another day

Disclaimer: I still don't own Assassin's Creed. Yeah, this isn't for profit, just enjoyment.

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Chapter 1

I could feel a soft, sea breeze as I opened my eyes slowly. Sleep still clung to the edges of my consciousness as I blinked several times, my vision slowly becoming clearer as my brain began to wake up. There was the cry of a seagull from outside as I sat up, rubbing my forehead tenderly. Mornings just weren't my thing. Why? Besides the fact that I looked like Crusader who had been in the field for a year without bathing, I could barely stand, and my hair reminded me of a wet mop…morning's were also the time when I had to do the most work. Sighing, I swung my bare legs over the edge of my small bed, stretching my arms above me head. My room was small, lacked furniture of almost every sort, smelled unpleasant, but as I told myself day after day, it was better than the street. I stood, cracking my neck on both sides. It was a disgusting habit, my mother always told me, and it revolted her. Probably why I tried to do it only whenever she was around. My linen bed-robe clung to my figure as I moved to the open window, bare feet padding softly across the wooden floorboards. Resting my arms on the windowsill, I leaned over and stuck my head out into the relatively fresh morning air. I'd gotten up late it seemed; the merchants below had already opened shop and were shouting out their prices to the growing crowds. Guards marched through the throngs of peasants, hands always hovering over the handles of their swords. I gazed over the city of Acre, holding my chin in the palm of my hand. Ships could be seen sailing in and out of port in the distance, no doubt filled with either goods or troops. The smell of the sea drifted all across the city, though for the most part the smell of shit and decay covered it up. Shaking my head, I pulled myself back into the room, closing the shutters of the window.

Opening my wardrobe, I took out a simple dress and laid it across my bed. Reaching down to grasp the lower hem of my bed-robe, I lifted it over me head, shrugging out of the fabric before tossing it into a corner of the room. Standing for a minute, I closed my eyes and enjoyed the feeling of the air on my bare skin. I have a nice body, though that might just be selfish opinion in my case. But I'm telling you, I notice those stares I get when I'm walking through the market. Shaking my head, I quickly grabbed the dress on my mattress, slipping into it. I would hardly be surprised if some street urchin decided to open my shutters and gape in at any second. It'd happened in the past, usually when I was dressed though. That was the downside of having your bedroom adjoining the roof of the next house over. Doing up the bindings of the dress along my back, I quickly straightened up, running my hands gently along the linen clothing to smooth out any creases. Going to the counter, I picked up a small comb and started evening out my hair. It was taut and knotted, not to mention overly greasy. My weekly trip to the bathhouse was tomorrow, though, so I tried not dwell on the fact that my hair felt how it did. In this city, bathing once a week was a blessing from God himself. Besides, next to the other girls around, I looked pretty good even _without_ a bath. At least, that's what it seemed like to me. Finishing with my hair, I took a few last moments to check that my dress covered my body properly, my breasts weren't lopsided, and that my face was mostly free of odd bumps. Glancing to the counter, I picked up the small carrying-pouch and fastened it around my waist. It held any money I might need, a few odds and ends, and a small knife. In this town…safe was better than sorry in most cases. Content with my appearance, I quickly slipped on a pair of shoes and hurried downstairs. The steps groaned with each step I took, the old wood protesting any weight put upon it. Reaching the bottom, I turned and headed for the kitchen. The smell of vegetables and bread filled the room as I quickly picked up a knife, beginning to slice a carrot into smaller pieces.

"You slept in." My mother beside me skinned a potato as she spoke. It was a statement, not a question, as were most sentences with that woman. "Your father already left for the docks." I nodded, cutting quickly with the small kitchen knife. My father loaded and unloaded cargo onto or from the ships down at the port with the other dockhands. I was happy he found such a good job. Usually, he was gone before I got up, and back after I was asleep. Since my father is a vulgar, easily irritated bastard, I think it's a great thing if I see as little of him as possible. Plus, the bruises he tends to gift me with take forever to go away.

"I need you to go get another dozen eggs from the market today, Sara. We're out again." Groaning, I stopped slicing to regard my mother with annoyed disbelief.

"I just went and got some for you less than a few days ago, how can we possibly be out already?" Not answering, my mother continued to skin the potato. Finishing, she tossed it into a small basket and picked up another. Shrugging, I went back to cutting.

"Ah, never mind. No doubt that pig ate all of them within a matter of hou…" I was cut off by my mother whirling about as she slapped me across the face, causing me to drop the knife and cry out slightly. Glaring, she went back to slicing the vegetables.

"I told you never to refer to your father as such. You're sixteen, learn to show some respect." I glared right back at her, rubbing my face. Turning, I stormed out of the kitchen, heading for the door.

"There are a few schillings on the table. Pick up more fish on your way back as well, please." Snatching the money from the small, wooden table, I stuffed it into my pouch and marched briskly out of the house, slamming the door behind me. Why she even cared for the stinking husk that I called 'father' was beyond me, especially since it was not only I who received bruises when he was at home. Sighing, I tilted my head back and breathed slowly to calm myself. Getting upset helped no one, and the scene that just played inside the house wasn't rare in the least. Tipping my head back down, I brushed a few strands of loose hair from my face and began to walk. The sky was a light shade of blue, the smoke from the city adding a grey overtone to the color. Clouds dotted the sky, appearing sparsely high above. The masses of peasants that populated the city streets hustled and bustled as I headed towards the market, joining the throng. A man bumped into me, mumbling something as he passed. I barely noticed, and continued walking. In the crowded, narrow streets, it was a true miracle if you weren't jostled by passer-byes at least a few dozen times a day. I wrinkled my nose in disgust as I passed by a pile of human waste that had accumulated in the streets, hurrying past it. Pushing my way around several women in front of me, I made my way for the market area. But quickly, I stopped dead in my tracks, thinking. There was no real hurry to get the things my mother had asked of me; especially since that meant coming home as soon as I'd bought them. I had all day…why not use it? Smiling to myself, I nodded. There was a cry of complaint from a man behind me, as he roughly shoved me to the side.

"Ge' out of my way, ya stinkin' whore." Glaring after him, I spit to the side before turning, ducking quickly into a nearby alleyway. The street was far too slow for my taste, and while the back alleys tended to be slightly more… 'dangerous' …they certainly were much quicker. My strides quickened and grew in length as I moved past old crates and crumbling buildings, heading towards the upper district. This part of the city was in such poor condition it was pathetic. Several attacks on the city by the heathen Saracens had left many houses destroyed, and many missing walls or roofs. With most of the damage being done to those with little to no money, the owners of say houses simply chose to abandon their former homes, rather than pay for repairs. I breezed my hand over the cold stone of one such building, looking up at it. The side of the second floor that faced towards the walls of the city ad a gaping hole in it, a large boulder still lodged within its walls. Stones and rubble littered the ground around the building, and I absent-mindedly kicked some smaller pieces of stone to the side of the alley. Resuming my walk, I trailed my hand along the wall before letting it fall to my side. Outside the alley, the sounds of the city continued to ring; a horse trotting across the cobblestones, a merchant shouting his wares. Smiling, I turned a corner, heading deeper into the city. Movement caught my eye, and I turned around just as a pair of hands shoved me back, knocking me flat on my rear. Gasping with shock and mild pain, I looked up to find my attacker.

A shirtless, half-naked man stood above me, holding his hands around his head. His eyes looked about wildly as he played with a handful of ragged hair. Mumbling and giggling, he moved towards me once again as he reached out a dirty, grime-covered hand. I slid back away from the man, quickly rising to my feet as my eyes widened with shock. The man was obviously infected with some sort of sickness, be it in mind or body. Turning, I fled in the opposite direction, wanting to be as far from the man as possible. Dashing through the twisting back-alley, I panted heavily as my feet flew across the ground. Rounding a bend, I burst back into the main street, breathing heavily. I placed a hand over my heart, feeling the rapid pulse against my chest. Several citizens looked at me with amused curiosity as they passed. Sure, it was funny for them. They weren't just confronted with a sick, no doubt insane man who wanted to kill them. Straightening up, I brushed the dirt off my dress and ran a hand through my hair, regaining my composure. I turned my head, checking my surroundings. Amazingly, the alley had led out right where I needed to go; the gate to the upper-district of Acre. A large fountain sat in the center of the square, the water bubbling pleasantly from the stone. Statues decorated the area about the gate, with guards posted every few paces. Snide bastards, even the _entrance_ to the district of the rich made the rest of the city pale in comparison. Shrugging, I headed to a nearby bench, taking a seat carefully on one edge. Another plump woman sat on the other side of the stone bench, humming to herself as he rocked a small baby in her arms. Leaning back against the wall behind me, I closed my eyes; waiting for the friend I knew would emerge from the gates sooner or later.

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Authors Notes: God those insane guys irritated me in the game.. For future referance, pfennigs and schillings were the currency used during the Crusades, and the names will pop up frequently during the story. I'm trying to keep things as realistic to the middle-ages as possible, which is why greasy hair and not bathing for up to weeks on end don't seem like such a big deal to the main character. Back then, heck, it was socially acceptable to smell like human-produce, remember.


	3. A brief reunion

Disclaimer: Haven't bought Bungie yet, so I still don't own Assassin's Creed or anything involved.

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Chapter 2

A soft sigh escaped my lips as my eyes opened to narrow slits, staring up at the midday sun. I must've drowsed off, for it appeared several hours had passed by unnoticed. The hustle and bustle of the crowded streets had managed to somehow increase, creating an almost living road of peasants and guard patrols. Even with the war ongoing, it seemed there was no end to the guards and soldiers that inhabited the city, enforcing 'order' in the streets. Heh…order. They took what they wanted and damned the consequences, of which there were rarely any. As I sat up, I quickly realized how dry my throat was. I was parched with thirst, inside my neck feeling like it just had coarse oats scratched along the skin. Coughing, I summoned up some liquid from my mouth, swallowing. Not much better, but a lot less uncomfortable. Clouds dotted the sea-blue sky above my upturned head, the white wisps scattered like patchwork over the bustling city. Birds and gulls continued to circle above, searching for any piece of scrap food they could consume to sate their constant hunger. Even at the thought of scraps, my stomach gave a loud growl, demanding to be fed. Patting the dress covering the skin, I shook my head. I'd eat when the day was over and done; there was too much to do during the light to waste any time on eating. No doubt my mother, the irritable whore she was, had also somehow forgotten to leave enough money for me to buy my own meal, on top of the supplies she had requested. A shout drew my attention as men and women suddenly parted in the street, expressions of confusion and concern on their faces. Several shouts followed as the men and women cleared the way in the center of the street as they usually did when trouble aroused. Charging through the now vacant portion of the cobblestone, half a dozen city guards sprinted towards the upper district of the city, swords drawn and held high. Their red and white tabards flapped in the air as the group ran, shoving the occasional daft onlooker to the side. My stomach clenched at the sight of drawn steel, and I quickly sat up to watch. The armored men looked from side to side, some pausing in the courtyard as they tossed glances at the assembled onlookers.

"Which way did he go!?"

"Find him, he's getting away!"

Shouts of confusion, irritation and pure anger sounded from the group of soldiers as they moved onwards, armor glinting in the afternoon sun. The sound of pursuit faded as the men ran into the upper district, the clink of armor and thundering of plate boots fading into the background of the city. Shrugs and mild explanations were given by the passing crowd as the sight was quickly forgotten. Fiddling with a stray strand of hair, I also let the memory fade, adding it up to a thief or ruffian causing some trouble. As I leaned back against the wall, I remembered this was a public bench, and glanced to my left to see if anyone had joined me. Time froze as I caught sight of white robes fluttering in the soft wind that had picked up. Worn leather boots were firmly planted on the ground, forest-brown pants leading up to a belt covered with knives and holding a sheathed sword. The mark of a Christian crusader or scribes of the churches adorned his white chest, hands clasped between his legs as he sat. A hood covered his face from sight, and if his chest hadn't betrayed his slow breathing, I would've assumed him only a detailed statue. My breath froze in my throat as I remembered that night all those years ago, and I opened my mouth to speak.

"Halt in the name of the king!" I screamed as I felt hands on my shoulder, almost fainting before I heard the high pitched squeal-laughter that followed. Whirling my head about, I came face to face with a bright-faced girl, who currently was holding her chest as she overflowed with laughter. I swore I could even see a few tears flow from her fair face, and growled low in my throat, cheeks burning red.

"In the name of God, Athera, what is _wrong_ with you!?" The girl giggled, giving my shoulder a push as her voice returned to it's proper, lady-like demeanor.

"If you could only see your face, Sara! You're so easy to scare!" Groaning, I let my hand fall into my palm. No doubt half the courtyards heard my scream, and were staring at me this very moment. Damn that girl pissed me off sometimes. Abruptly, I remembered the man and whipped my head back around, eyes searching frantically. The only activity on the bench was a slumbering man at the far side, a hat over his head to protect him from the sun. The white being had simply…gone. Turning back around, I faced my friend who was waving a clean, trimmed hand in front of my face.

"Hello, anyone home? Wake up you!" Softly smacking the hand away with my own, I flashed a ragged smile at the girl.

"Shut it, you're not the one who actually gets scared at that phrase." Shrugging, the girl giggled again and plopped down beside me, her dress fluttering about her feet. Athera was the daughter of some noble in upper Acre, brought up to be the perfect lady who would one day be courted by another noble for some political reason and live her life out happily. For some reason, the idea hadn't struck the girl as 'ideal', and though she was quite the natural born proper lady in her own home, in the city, she was more of a street rat than Sara herself. Free-flowing black hair draped from her head down past her shoulders, while her blue eyes fixed Sara with the same assessing stare currently being given. Dressed in peasants clothing, her origin of birth was given away by several factors, namely her tidy, washed hair, clean skin, soft hands, and beautiful smile. Was I jealous, oh words cannot describe it. But it wasn't like either of them could control life; they had been born into different stations of life, and they had to accept that. All the pretending in the world wouldn't turn Athera into a peasant, nor Sara into a queen.

"Do we intend to stare at one another all day, Sara?" Rolling my eyes, I quickly stood, brushing down my linen dress.

"Got anything better in mind? And quick talking like a noble, it freaks me out." I spit to the side to emphasize the point, earning a shocked and disgusted stare from the fellow teenager. The look was quickly replaced by one of excitement as she clasped her hands over mine.

"As a matter of fact, I do. There's going to be a hanging today!" I gasped, eyes filling with excitement. Heretics to the church being hung or defected soldiers being quartered, it was always such a lift to see the power of the city enforced against its enemies. It showed us King Henry was still doing his part to bring the Holy Lands back into rightful Christian control, not to mention all the dock-boys somehow managed to attend. No doubt a few of them would be looking for something more after the show was over, too. My voice betrayed my emotions clearly, wavering with excitement.

"Where? I hadn't heard anything!" Giggling at my obvious enthusiasm, the daughter of royalty pointed across the courtyard towards the inner city.

"It's being held in the middle district. They're letting in everyone today; even peasants like you! If we hurry, we can get a good place to watch!" Practically leaping forward, I grabbed the girl's soft hand and sprinted off into the city, dragging her along. I even ignored the comment about peasants, my excitement was so great. Rarely were occasions like this opened for all to see, the lower folk of the city having to sneak their way in. Even the sudden appearance of the white-clad man was completly forgotten as I pushed my way through the throngs of merchants and beggars, grinning like a madman. The day had suddenly taken an amazing turn, and there was no way I would let it pass by.

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I also apologize for not writing for, what, four months now? I got so much positive review, I went back to my actual novel and wrote almost two hundred pages and realized I owed you guys for your praise, and thus am finishing this story. I promised lemons, and so soon, lemons there shall be! In the near future anyways. Oh, and sometime later in this story, i'll be taking requests for lemony scenes that you wish were in existance but aren't. Right now, I just need to catch up on this writing.


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